


You Taught Me To French (Sandcastles in the Sand)

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beaches, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Bucky is a hot surfer, Steve is an awkward person working at an ice cream stand, and everything is too hot, hot damn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Taught Me To French (Sandcastles in the Sand)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the AU prompt "you’re a hot surfer and i’m an awkward person working at an ice cream stand on the beach AU".
> 
> I wanted to make this longer, and a little different, but this is how it turned out. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> The title comes from "Sandcastles in the Sand".

Steve Rogers was a townie. Always had been, always would be, and everybody who knew him knew that. And that was _everybody_ ; the people who lived in town, the tourists who came back every summer, everybody. He worked just about every day, every summer, at the same ice cream stand, since he was twelve, so even the people who were visiting the beach for the first time started to recognize him after coming to his ice cream stand for the third or eighth or fifteenth time. Now, at age twenty-six, Steve was still little like he always was, small and blonde and thin, and nobody really looked twice at him, though he liked to watch everybody else.

Right now, with no line at the stand, Steve was sitting in his lawn chair that he dragged with him everyday, trying to avoid the sun, lest his white, freckled skin burn to a crisp. He was also trying to _subtly_ watch Bucky Barnes surf, but, based on the looks Natasha and Clint were giving him from the lifeguard stand, he was none too successful.

See, the thing about Bucky Barnes was that he and Steve were _both_ townies (and best friends, to boot), but Bucky was… If not playing the field, then certainly, at least, a serial monogamist. He was muscled, attractive, skilled, athletic. Like, really, the whole package, if you asked Steve, and people often asked Steve. The thing about Bucky was that he was perfect.

The thing about Steve was that he was in love with Bucky.

And it wasn’t a big deal, you know. He could handle it. He just tried not to be obvious, and Bucky was still his best friend, whether or not he was in love with him, so he had that.

Again, based on the looks Nat and Clint were giving him, he was none too successful in his endeavors.

Bucky had finished surfing while Steve was zoned out, and Steve only noticed him when he was halfway across the sand to him. Steve dug Bucky’s bag out from under his stand and presented it to him without a second thought. Bucky dropped his surfboard in the sand and accepted the bag gratefully before hurtling into the sand. He tugged his wetsuit down until his chest was bare and his right arm was free. He unzipped his bag and pulled out his prosthetic metal arm, which, with Steve’s help, he attached at the shoulder.

“So,” Bucky asked, tossing his hair back out of his face. “How goes business?”

“Pretty well,” Steve answered, pulling Bucky’s hair back and French-braiding it. He tied it with one of the hair elastics he had learned to keep on his wrists. “It’s a little cloudy and windy, so, not too busy. Busy enough.”

“Windy’s good,” Bucky reminded him. Steve stood back up, dusting the sand off his legs.

“Not for business,” Steve countered, returning to his seat behind the stand. Bucky collapsed in the sand, getting his braid all sandy. Steve frowned at him. “For beach bum surfers who flop around in the waves all day, maybe.”

“I resent that.” Bucky heaved himself up out of the sand and started digging through his bag again. “I have a job. Surfing is a _fun_ activity, mind you. I do it for _fun_. Let off steam. We can’t pay the rent on your ice cream stand salary.”

“I make plenty,” Steve murmured. Bucky finally found what he was looking for, and triumphantly held up two dollar bills.

“Moose Tracks,” Bucky stated, dropping back down, his arm still held straight up, the money tight in his fist. Steve leaned over the side of the stand and plucked the two dollars bills out of his hand. He grabbed a sugar cone, stuffed as much of the Moose Tracks as he could into it, and handed it down to Bucky.

“Bossy,” Steve mumbled under his breath. Bucky raised an eyebrow at him.

“I heard that,” Bucky told him. Steve suppressed a smile.

“You were meant to,” Steve shot back. Bucky grinned at him and sat up, leaning against the side of the ice cream stand and watching people walk on the beach. “Are you wearing any sunscreen, by the way?”

“No, _Mom_ ,” Bucky answered, licking at his ice cream cone with a single-minded focus. “What do you care?”

“I care because you’re a bitch when you burn.” Steve reached into the pocket of his shorts and retrieved his house key. “Go get the bottle, I left it on the counter.”

“But Mom, I just got ice cream,” Bucky whined dramatically, holding up the ice cream as proof. Steve rolled his eyes and moved around the stand. He opened Bucky’s metal hand for him, tied the bracelet attached to the key around his wrist, dropped the key into his hand, and closed his fingers around it. He pat Bucky on the shoulder.

“There you go, jerk,” Steve said, standing out of his crouch and returning to his post behind the ice cream stand. Bucky stood, sand clinging to his wetsuit, to his skin, and to his hair.

“Fine,” Bucky acquiesced. “Punk.”

“Heard that.”

“Meant to,” Bucky repeated tauntingly. Steve flicked a sprinkle at him. “Need anything else while I’m there?”

“A bottle of water wouldn’t go amiss.” Steve took a seat again, looking up at Bucky around the umbrella above his stand.

“Alright, cool.” Bucky took a bite out of his cone, and Steve flinched visibly. Bucky laughed. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve watched as Bucky climbed up the rocks to the sidewalk and jogged across the street to their place. When Steve turned back to face the ocean, two faces were in front of him. He sighed.

“What?” Steve asked. Clint shrugged, his hands in the pockets of his swimsuit, his sunglasses taking up half his face. Natasha bent down to lean on the surface of the stand.

“Couldn’t help but notice you openly gawking at your boyfriend,” Natasha answered for the both of them. Steve’s cheeks brightened a little bit, and he shooed Natasha off the stand as a little boy ran up with two handfuls of quarters.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Steve grumbled in response, and the little boy beamed up at him.

“Do you have strawberry?” he asked eagerly, and Steve’s whole demeanor changed, his body language opening up and his grin blinding. Clint rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses.

“I have the best strawberry,” Steve assured him, and the boy was nearly hopping up and down on the sand with excitement. He handed over his quarters, and Steve made a mental note to put three more dollar bills in the cash box at the end of the day as he dug out his largest sugar cone and filled it with scoops of strawberry ice cream. The boy could hardly hold it in his little hands, and he looked up at Steve with such awe that Steve laughed.

“Thank you,” the boy whispered reverently, staring at Steve for another second before returning his attention to the ice cream. He left in the direction he came, walking slowly and carefully to keep the ice cream steady and safe, and, when Steve looked up at Natasha and Clint, they were both grinning. Natasha was shaking her head.

“That was disgusting to watch, I hope you know that,” Clint commented. Natasha laughed. Steve just shrugged and pulled out a Bomb Pop for himself.

“Stark invited us out drinking,” Natasha informed him, in a swift topic change. Steve bit off the tip of the Bomb Pop, and Clint shuddered. “The Tower is having nickel shot night. Thor has formally challenged you.”

“We’ll see how that goes,” Steve murmured to himself. “I’ll be there.”

“You’ll be where?” Bucky asked, jogging up beside him. He set Steve’s bottle of water down on the edge of the ice cream stand.

“Nickel shot night at the Tower tonight,” Steve told him, focusing on his Bomb Pop so he wouldn’t focus on Bucky’s bare chest. “Stark invited us, and Thor challenged me.”

“Thor’s probably out of practice with shots,” Bucky pointed out, starting to rub the sunscreen into his skin, pointedly not watching Steve sucking on the Bomb Pop. “He makes those damn fruity drinks all the time, he’s starting to drink those almost exclusively. Well, that and bourbon.”

This was true. Thor Odinson, the bartender who worked at the little tiki bar down the beach a ways, was Norwegian, blonde, and gigantic, and he mixed drinks like nobody’s business. Steve would go down and help at night sometimes, when people were done with ice cream and started wanting something a little stronger. Clint would help, too, but Natasha would mostly just watch them and order complicated drinks. Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster worked with him, too; they were two of the most beautiful women Steve had ever seen, and the patrons thought the same, and that certainly didn’t hurt business. His brother, Loki, would fill in when he was needed, but he mostly stayed in the back and ran the whole operation from behind the scenes, Thor only helping out with the business side when he wanted to.

Clint and Natasha were easily the two best lifeguards on the beach, and they worked just about every day, same as Steve. Bucky, though he frequently surfed recreationally, actually worked up at the surf shop/general store across the street from the beach, as well as teaching surf classes several times a day. Tony Stark owned the mechanic shop next to the surf shop. He employed only Pepper Potts, who essentially ran the place; James Rhodes, who Steve never saw much of unless he was with Tony; and Bruce Banner, an eerily calm guy who Steve had once seen take out twelve huge guys single-handedly in a bar fight once. Tony himself was too much energy stuffed into a single, very skilled guy who liked to tease people a little too much, Steve especially. Sam Wilson, who Steve was still on the lookout for, was a pedicab operator who made his way around their little town, and up and down the beach. Sheriff Phil Coulson and his team of officers patrolled the beach with keen eyes, especially after the mysterious disappearance of the previous sheriff, Sheriff Nicholas Fury.

Between all of them, the beach tended to run pretty smoothly. Steve got to watch just about everything happen from his ice cream stand, which was technically a division of Sweet Sands Surf Shop, and helped out essentially everywhere he was asked to. He loved his job.

“That doesn’t make the prospect any less daunting,” Steve reminded Bucky. Bucky shrugged and handed the sunscreen bottle to Steve. Steve finished his Bomb Pop and tossed the stick in the little trash can under the stand and started rubbing the sunscreen into Bucky’s back automatically.

“The only people who ever stand a chance of beating Thor are you and that creepy brother of his,” Bucky pointed out. Clint was signing something to Natasha that Steve chose to ignore. Natasha giggled. Steve did not sigh, but it was a close thing. Bucky raised an eyebrow at them over his shoulder. “Would you like to share with the class?”

“No, Mr. Barnes,” Natasha and Clint answered in unison. Steve shook his head and handed Bucky the sunscreen back. Bucky rolled his eyes before directing his attention to Steve.

“Strip, I’m gonna do you,” Bucky ordered, and Clint snorted and started laughing so hard that he had to walk away to gather himself. Bucky’s brow furrowed, and Steve ducked his head, trying to hide his red face as he pulled his shirt off. It was the afternoon, and people were starting to pay more attention to the ice cream stand so Bucky finished quickly. Steve took the sunscreen, did his own front, pulled his work tank back on, and got back to serving ice cream to the beach patrons. Natasha and Clint vanished back to their stands.

“I’m going to leave the ice cream to you,” Bucky commented after a bit, gathering up his bag and his surfboard. “I’ll go help Thor for a little while.”

“Don’t get drunk,” Steve called over his shoulder. Bucky turned back and flipped him off with his flesh hand. Steve immediately leaned over the stand to cover the eyes of the little girl asking for a cone of chocolate-chocolate almond. Bucky was gone for the whole rest of the daylight hours; once the sun started to set, Steve packed up the stand, dropped the lanyard with the key around his neck, and made his way down the beach to the bar.

“How’s it going?” Steve called across the noisy, dusk-lit Tower Bar, leaping over the counter to the other side. Thor slid a bottle of whiskey across the bar to him, nodding his head in the direction of a couple of women whose tumblers were empty.

“Fairly busy, which is always good,” Thor answered, his loud, heavy voice carrying over the voices in the tiki bar. Steve set to work, mixing drinks like he was born doing it, and he figured only half an hour had passed before Bucky grabbed his shoulder.

“You want to get out of here?” Bucky asked, reaching around Steve to grab the tumbler of Crown Royal and Coke, downing it in one swallow. Steve kept his eyes on his hands.

“I haven’t even taken Thor up on his challenge yet..” Steve felt Bucky’s fingers untying his apron. “ _Bucky._ ”

“Let’s go, Steve,” Bucky murmured near his ear. Steve’s hand was shaking when he put the bottle down.

“Alright, yeah,” Steve agreed, letting Bucky slip the apron off and toss it underneath the bar. He handed the bottles over to Peter, the young just-turned-twenty-one bartender who beamed at Steve. “Thor, we’re heading out!”

“Thanks for the help tonight!” Thor called from across the bar where he was serving Tony, who raised his glass to Steve before downing the last of his drink. Bucky dragged Steve out of the bar and started leading him down the beach, back in the direction of the ice cream stand.

“What do you want?” Steve asked once they reached the stand, popping open the top of it and digging around for his scoops. Bucky kicked at the sand, keeping his eyes on his feet.

“Give me one of those Fool’s Gold ones,” Bucky answered eventually. Steve watched him for a brief moment before making the cone and handing it over to Bucky. He made a cookie dough cone for himself and locked up the stand again.

“What’s up, Buck?” Steve asked. Bucky just stared at his cone, not licking at it, not eating it, just staring. Steve licked his own. “Something wrong?”

“No, I just-” Bucky cut himself off. He huffed a breath. Steve nodded towards the water.

“D’you want to go for a walk until you can talk?” Steve offered. Bucky shook his head, and Steve started to feel a little nervous. He looked away from Bucky, focusing on the reflection of the moon on the water. He listened as Bucky tried to steady his breathing.

“Steve…” Bucky trailed off. Steve’s heart was pounding in his chest, his own breathing quickening. “Steve. Chill. It’s okay, don’t work yourself up.”

“I’m sorry, you’re just freaking me out,” Steve said, pressing one hand against his chest. Bucky motioned to his own chest with the hand holding his ice cream cone.

“Use my breathing,” Bucky ordered. “Focus on me, Steve.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Steve demanded. Bucky looked at Steve’s hand against his thin chest, at Steve’s blond hair turned almost white in the silver moonlight, at Steve leaning against the ice cream stand. _Really_ looked at Steve. Bucky dropped his ice cream cone, and Steve’s brow furrowed. “ _Buck-_ ”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Bucky insisted before wrapping his hand up in Steve’s lanyard, using it to tug him right up against him and shove their mouths together. Bucky faintly heard Steve drop his own cone before both of his hands tangled in Bucky’s hair.

“Buck-”

“I love you,” Bucky murmured breathlessly, pressing his nose into the space below Steve’s ear. He started biting a hickey into Steve’s neck. “I’m sorry, Steve, I love you, I love you _so much-_ ”

“Don’t apologize,” Steve sighed, and Bucky felt Steve’s hands running down his shoulders before he lost the feeling of Steve’s hand on the prosthetic. “I didn’t know, I didn’t- I would’ve _said something_.”

“I spend _every day_ thinking about you, Steve-”

“You _love me-_ ”

“ _Damn straight,_ I do-”

“I love you,” Steve murmured, stretching up to push their mouths together again. “Bucky, I love you.” Steve ran one hand down Bucky’s metal prosthetic before hopping up onto the ice cream stand. He sat on the edge and spread his legs open to let Bucky stand between them. Bucky took the opportunity, running his hand up Steve’s thigh to his waist.

“I love you,” Bucky said quietly into Steve’s neck. The lapping of the waves, getting closer to high tide, were audible through his words. Steve tipped his head back, and Bucky pressed his lips to Steve’s throat. A flash went off and startled them both, Steve falling backwards off the stand into the sand.

“It’s about fucking time, to be honest,” Natasha laughed, standing next to Clint, who was holding up his phone. “Clint, how’d that turn out?”

“We got one of them making out, one of Steve falling, and now,” Clint snapped another picture, “one of Steve’s ass covered in sand.”

“I actually hate you,” Steve grumbled, brushing the sand off of his face. Bucky offered him a hand up.

“What happened to the ice cream?” Sam asked, looking over Clint’s shoulder at the abandoned ice cream cones melting into the sand.

“I had more important things to lick,” Bucky snapped. “Now, _go_.”

“I don’t know, I’ve prepared a eulogy for your virginity, Barnes-”

“ _Leave,_ ” Steve growled. Bucky held up a hand.

“Wait.” Bucky narrowed his eyes at Clint. “What do you mean, for _my_ virginity? What about Steve’s?”

“You’ve been pining over Steve for years,” Natasha reminded him. “Steve slept with Peggy before she moved back to England.”

Bucky rounded on Steve. “You never told me that!”

Steve’s ears went red. He glared at Natasha. “Starting to wish I hadn’t told _anybody_ that.”

“Anybody with eyes could have noticed it, Steve,” Clint pointed out. Sam waved his hands in the air.

“No, everybody, stop talking, focus,” Sam shouted. “It’s not important who slept with who. What’s important,” Sam said, stepping forward and placing Bucky’s metal hand in Steve’s right hand, “is who is _sleeping_ with who. Dicks in asses, ‘til death do you part.”

“I hate you.” Steve punched Sam’s arm. “Leave me alone.”

“We’re going back to our place,” Bucky announced. He grabbed Steve with his right hand and hauled him up over his shoulder. Steve waved to their friends as Bucky carried him up to the sidewalk. He sprinted across the road and up the front steps of their little house.

“What do you think the eulogy for your virginity said?” Steve asked faux-genuinely, his voice somewhere near the small of Bucky’s back as Bucky threw their front door open and carried him through the house.

“I think it said, ‘Fuck off, Steve,’” Bucky replied, trying not to smile as he hauled Steve into his bedroom and dropped him on the bed. Steve bounced twice, laughing.

“I am getting sand _everywhere_.”

“That’s the plan,” Bucky murmured, crawling over Steve’s body to kiss him quiet. He got sand in his mouth for his troubles. “I _hate_ the beach.”

“Really?” Steve grinned. “I’m kind of a fan.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The ice cream flavors come from [The Scoop Deck menu](http://www.scoopdeck.com/#!flavor-board/c6v5)!
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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